Necessity's Child (Liaden Universe®) by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee

service apron three times, she and Malda were panting alike.
    “One more,” she said, “then we must find Vylet.”
    She picked up the ball and threw with more strength than she had intended. The ball bounced once and disappeared into the mouth of a service tunnel, Malda in hot pursuit.
    “Malda!” Kezzi pelted after, stopping at the edge of the tunnel and peering into the blackness beyond. That was strange—twice strange. Not only were the tunnels usually closed with flexwire, but they were lit by the glow strips running down the middle of the floor and ceiling. The strips in this tunnel were as black as the walls.
    “Malda!” she called again, reaching into her pocket. She heard a scrabbling sound, like a dog’s claws on the stone flooring.
    Her fingers found the cool cylinder of the flash; she pulled it out and pressed the stud, waking a beam of light.
    It was only a small light against a large darkness. Still, it preceded Kezzi by three steps, so she went carefully forward.
    The scrabbling came again.
    Kezzi stopped and snapped her fingers. “Malda! Come!”
    The answer to this was a yip, and a silence long enough for Kezzi to walk nine more steps into the tunnel. She bit her lip. To leave Malda in the tunnel—that she could not do. There were rats in the tunnels, and other strange creatures, who would find one small dog just good enough for dinner.
    Thinking of those other creatures, she was afraid—and that she mustn’t be. To bring Malda back to her, she had to sound strong and stern, like she was a dog so big Malda would think of nothing but doing exactly what that big dog wanted him to do. Also, she needed to be so big and so strong that those other creatures would think very hard about showing themselves.
    Kezzi took a deep breath, held it—and heard the scrabbling again, louder and faster this time, moving not down the tunnel—
    But up.
    She swung to the side, keeping the light focused on the tunnel floor. The noise grew louder, and suddenly through the little splinter of light raced a low grey animal pursued by a black-and-tan dog not much larger.
    Claws scraping the stone, they ran past, toward the light at the end of the tunnel. Kezzi thrust the flash into her pocket and ran after.
    The rat skidded to a halt, as if the light of the open garden hurt its eyes. Malda never paused, but rushed forward, grabbed the rat by the back of the neck, snapped it left, snapped it right—and dropped it, limp and unmoving, to the floor.
    Kezzi swallowed, and went forward, pulling her knife out of her belt. She held it ready, just in case—but Malda’s kill had been true.
    She took a breath then, and forced herself to smile.
    “Good Malda!” she said. “Brave hunter!” She snapped her fingers and Malda left his prize to come forward and have his ears rubbed.
    “Good dog, brave dog. Truly, you are of the Bedel! Come, now, follow!”
    She moved off at a trot across the service apron. Malda hesitated, looking back at the dead rat. Kezzi snapped her fingers again—and the little dog ran after her.
    There was a speaker in the wall of the garden, just beyond the fruiting trees. From it, Kezzi could call the gate-watch. A rat in the tunnel so near to the garden, that was bad. She was sad, for a moment, remembering that Malda’s ball was lost to the tunnel, then shrugged. She would go out into the City Above tomorrow, and get another one.
    * * *
    Syl Vor bowed to his mother’s honor, and straightened, holding the tea tin tight in both hands. He dared a glance at her face from beneath his lashes, so he saw that she was not frowning. That was, he told himself, well.
    She was not smiling, either, but his mother did not smile nearly so often as Aunt Anthora or Uncle Shan. And never so easily as Grandfather Luken. It was a prize, his mother’s smile. A treasure, and not given lightly.
    “My son,” she said now. “I am pleased to see you.”
    Pleased. He relaxed somewhat.
    “Did you not,” she asked, “ expect